Mondegreen
by S.M.Shoka
Summary: A series of related yet unrelated one-shots between Coraline and Wybie over the years during various stages of friendship, adventures, and coming-of-age. ˈmändəɡrēn/: a misunderstood or misinterpreted word or phrase resulting from a mishearing of the lyrics of a song. Ratings will vary.
1. Rain, Rain

_A/N: I'm not sure how dead this fandom is so I'm going to post a few things and see how many views/feedback I get before posting more. Coraline's universe is too cute to NOT write!_

* * *

"Why Coraline, child, you're all wet!"

"Hi, Mrs. Lovat." Coraline gave a small smile, ignoring the droplets running down her face. "Is Wybie home?

The elderly woman simply shook her head but gestured for her to come inside. It was rather difficult to tell that it was the middle of the day – puffy dark clouds filled the sky, covering any inkling of sunlight. Rain pattered the rooftops, filling the creaky house with a soft hum as Coraline slipped out of her raincoat and dripping socks. All the while Mrs. Lovat tsked and fussed over the girl.

"What…" she said as she tucked the wet strands of hair behind Coraline's ears, "possessed you to come out on a day like this?"

"Mom and Dad have been out all day and there's only so much you can do by yourself. Where's Wybie?"

Mrs. Lovat tsked again, the air puffing away Coraline's bangs. "That boy's still up in bed. Dead as a rock. Try and talk some sense into him won't you hon?"

The staircase croaked as Coraline made her way up the rickety steps. She knew Wybie's house like the lifelines on her palms. There were fourteen steps – the eighth one was surprisingly silent – and the knob of the banister fell off if you leaned too hard on it. The hallway was dark because Mrs. Lovat's eyes were sensitive to the light, and there was a mulberry stain on the carpet in front of the bathroom where Wybie spilled grape soda.

_One, two, three, four_, Coraline counted in her head, passing the closet and bursting into the room at the end of the hallway.

It was a mess.

And while she was used to navigating the jungles of Wybie Lovat's room, the girl still clucked her tongue anyway. Crumpled clothing caked the floor, science books stacked throughout the room, and containers of creepy-crawling-things perched on the surfaces of anything not crowded with useless junk. The bundle of sheets and blankets shifted on the old wiry mattress – it was either Wybie or a creature from the woods. But it was most likely Wybie.

"Dweeb," she muttered and tiptoed around the room until she reached the window. Condensation enveloped the glass and Coraline placed her palm against it, her colorful fingernails glistening. Crisscrossing towards the bed, Coraline smirked as she slowly removed the sheets. There could be a Zombie Apocalypse and Wybie would _still _sleep through it. The boy was tangled – all arms and legs – and his mouth hung slightly agape as he whistled asleep. So without further adieu, Coraline pressed her cold moist hand onto Wybie's face, which resulted in –

"YEEE-OWW!"

Mrs. Lovat clucked her tongue from downstairs and shook her head at the pounding of feet and giggles.

_"Coraline, I'm gonna kill you!"_

Rainy days.


	2. The Facts

Coraline's fingers fumbled as she turned the next page. The binding bent back, revealing the next words that captured the girl's attention.

"Urgghhh!"

What was going to happen next? Did the alien have enough fuel to reach home? Why was the friend being so stupid and _not _helping? Totally seems like something Wybie would do. If she desperately needed help and was stupid enough to ask him, he'd probably do the _complete_ opposite of helping. In fact, he'd probably just stutter away, in that adorable way of his, and – wait what?

"Hey, Jonesy!"

Her book, having a mind of its own, flew out of her hands and the hammock nearly capsized over. Women and children first. She glared as Wybie laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, hugging his stomach as he gasped for air.

"Don't do that!" Coraline sat up, eyebrows furrowing as her friend emerged from the woods. "Don't you have anyone else to stalk?"

She was in the garden, lounging in a hammock as she read the day away. It was her favorite series –Flying Monstrous Wonders – and out of 113, the girl was only on book six. The fact that she was a slow reader was one thing, but the fact that Wybie managed to find her was another. And she was just going to have to entirely ignore the fact that she just used the words "adorable" and "Wybie" in the same sentence. In fact, it never happened so Coraline wasn't quite sure why she was blushing anyway.

"Y-you should've seen…the look…on your face!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," she said and picked up the book. "Go take a look in the mirror first before you start remarking on _my _face."

"Yeesh! Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Coraline simply ignored him, attempting and failing, to focus on the words on the pages, which were now blurring into a bunch of gibberish. Wybie tilted his head and inspected his friend, not before wandering towards her. If it was difficult to focus before, the fact that his shadow was now casting upon her made it even more of a battle.

"_Flying Monstrous Wonders…_" he read, gloved fingers tracing the cover. "Any good?"

She shrugged.

"Jonsey."

The fact that there was no mirth to the name, no hint of teasing or playfulness caused a crinkle to appear between Coraline's eyebrows. It also caused her to begrudgingly lift the book, coming face to face with a Serious Wybie.

At first they didn't say anything, simply staring, and something strange tickled the air, prickling at Coraline's ears and then her cheeks. She wasn't exactly sure, but –

"Wanna take a picture of this weird jelly thing I found on the road?"

Coralline blinked. "You're so weird."

He mumbled something but the girl simply giggled, poking him in the sides and chased after him.


	3. Absitively Posolutely

"The projects will be displayed at the parent teacher conference in two weeks so choose wisely," says Mrs. Appleton as she erases the marks on the chalkboard.

September is science month at Ashland Junior High, which means paper-maches of planets, hanging mobiles of the galaxy, badly crafted rockets, and glittery alien figurines. In second period science, Mrs. Appleton's eighth grade class stares back at her with dead eyes and blank faces. They seem more excited than usual. Coraline groans.

"Very well!" she claps with a smile. "I'll count off so you can get into arranged partners and" –

"Uh, Mrs. Appleton?" Annabel Lee waves her hand. "Aren't we old enough to pick our _own _partners? I mean, we _are _thirteen."

The class erupts in agreement, heads nodding, and this sudden burst of life throws Mrs. Appleton off course.

"I mean, not all of us want to be partnered up with some weirdo or anything," she says, body shifting to briefly face Wybie hunched in the back corner. He looks away.

Mrs. Appleton sighs. "Well…I guess you guys can handle it. Pick a partner in five minu" –

But before the words leave her lips, chairs are already scratching the floors.

Coraline looks around, adjusting the collar to her uniform as she's unsure of what to do. While she's been at the school for a few months, the New Kid Smell still hasn't lifted from her. But, thankfully Wybie doesn't seem to be garnering any fans so –

"Heeey, Caroline." Annabel stands in front of her desk, hip cocked to the side. Her red curls bounce against her shoulders and her fingers click against Coraline's desk tag.

"Annabel. It's Cora" –

"Wanna be partners?"

"I mean, if I got _your _name wrong wouldn't that be – oh." Coraline's eyebrows shoot up. "I think" –

"This project is going to be so lame, though. Like what is she expecting – a mural of the solar system?

Her eyes dart towards Wybie. "I guess, but, I think I'm already partners with Wybie."

"And I've got a C in this class, too." Annabel sits down on the edge of her desk. "So, I mean – wait what?"

"Wybie's gonna be my partner. But thanks anyway?"

"_Wybie_? As in _Wyborn Lovat_?"

"Yeahhh…"

"The guy that's bent like a question mark?"

"That's the one."

"But…he's like…I mean, really?"

Coraline stands up and grabs her notebook. The class seems to be settling down, hushed chatter amongst the students. "Pretty sure."

"Seriously. Like, in all honesty?"

Wybie's hand absentmindedly twirls his thick messy curls as he scribbles away on a sheet of paper. So oblivious to the world. Coraline grins.

"Positive."


	4. Piggyback

"On your markreadysetgo!"

Coraline dashes down the trail, blue hair flying in the light breeze. She's a blur of vibrant color, a running rainbow, in the dead autumn woods: sepia-chestnut-chamoisee leaves blanket the earth, camel-bole-fallow trees twist and bend their branches with fawn-bistre-ecru pebbles and stones scattered about. Her cackle swirls with the sounds of birds and dancing leaves.

"H-hey, no fair, Jonesy!" Wybie stumbles behind with flailing arms as his friend (neighbor? classmate? he isn't exactly sure how to label their relationship) widens the gap between them. The grin on Coraline's face threatens to crack her cheekbones. The poor dweeb didn't even see it coming: the pair had been dawdling by a stream, skipping stones. One minute it's "what do you wanna do?" I dunno…what do you wanna do?" and then next it's a quick shove with "race you back home!"

But just as quickly as it starts, it ends. Exactly two minutes and eight seconds after the impromptu race begins, Coraline Jones flies through the sky when her left foot trips on her shoelace.

"Damnit! My ankle!"

All good things come to an end.

"J-jonesy?" Wybie finally arrives, panting lightly. He cocks his head at the peculiar yet amusing sight of Coraline sprawled on the ground. "Nuh-uh, you're totally – totally faking it!"

"_Why _would I be faking the most _agonizing, painful, _absolute _miserable" – _

"Can you be more of a drama queen?'

"How could you be laughing at me at a time like this?" Coraline falls backwards and covers her eyes with her arm. "I'm dying!"

"Pfft, I – well – whatever." But Wybie crouches, eyebrows crinkled in a concerning matter.

So she's being a bit more dramatic than necessary but it still hurt. Coraline winces as her hand massages her foot, the pain throbbing softly under the warm skin. The two preteens stay like this, a few seconds passing, until suddenly Wybie stands up and offers his hand.

She quirks an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Uh, a hand? What else?"

"And what do you want me to do with it?"

"Jonesy," Wybie sighs, tapping his foot. This is her first time witnessing an Impatient Wybie. It's kind of cute. "I have cousins. A lot. Little ones I mean. I carry them – by myself – all the time."

"All the time?"

"Always."

"Even now?"

"Yup. You can't even, like, see them. That's how good I am."

"Pretty sure I'm bigger than a toddler, Wyborne." He rolls his eyes but smirks when she finally grabs it and clambers onto his curved back. It's a little awkward at first, unsurprisingly, but they finally manage: her legs hooked around his slim waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. Wybie's cheeks reddens and covers it with a cough –

"Hey, I'm not _that _heavy!"

"Uh-huhh."

In the next eight minutes and thirty-two seconds, the two friends gradually shuffle down the trail, bickering and joking along the way about Mrs. Appleton's class, extraterrestrial beings, peach cinnamon pie, and B-rate horror films. But even once they reach Coraline's front porch and her foot feels loads better, she insists that Wybie carry her inside too. It's rather comfortable.

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_A/N: Hmm...got a few views...maybe some reviews? A follow or two? *nudge nudge*_


	5. Something Peculiar

"Cat you're smart," Wybie said, petting his small friend as he lay on his bed one day. "Define the word _weird _for me."

He hadn't seen Coraline in days and even in the past few weeks that the boy _had _seen her, well, things had just been a little odd…

"Jonesy!"

Wybie had seen her in the parking lot of Foxes Food Marketplace one bustling afternoon, strolling to get a cart with her mother. He had been practicing wheelies for the past forty-four minutes and thirteen seconds when his eyes zeroed in on a flash of indigo blue. She raised an eyebrow, glancing at her mother who simply gave a curt nod before heading inside. Coraline shoved her hands inside her denim jacket. "What?"

"Working on the food pyramid with your mom, huh?" he biked around her, a small grin toying at the corner of his lips

Yet, she merely shrugged and answered her scuffed checkered shoes. "We're just getting groceries. Nothing crazy."

"Oh."

Throughout their friendship, Wybie had grown accustomed to Coraline's short-tempers and sharp tongue. It was simply how the two coexisted: she was rather bossy and he was rather peculiar. However, lately, it seemed as if Coraline had simply become permanently, indelibly, and immutably fed up with him.

Wybie jerked his head, messy hair falling into his eyes, as he gestured behind him. "Wanna hop on? I've been practicing some new tricks."

Her brown eyes widened, only briefly that he pondered the idea that he imagined it, and she shook her head. "I'd rather not die."

"What?" he chuckled, confused. "You've rode with me plenty of times before" –

"I need to help with the groceries. Later," the words tumbled out as she walked away without so much as a backward glance.

Wybie sighed at the memory, lifting the furry animal onto his chest as he peered at his ceiling in a stupor. He wasn't quite certain when everything had changed. Whenever the young teen had attempted visiting her at home, she either never answered or gave the poor yet somewhat reasonable excuse of homework.

"C'mawwwn," he drawled as he tilted his head one chilly morning. "It's, like, super cool. I think it has two heads!"

But Coraline merely yawned at his invitation to go exploring in the woods. It was his first time seeing her hair in a ponytail, which accentuated her face and made her look simply…different. "I told you. I have a lot of homework to do."

"We're, like, in almost all the same classes! Which one gave us homework?" She didn't respond, didn't truly regard him, so Wybie grabbed her soft hands, swaying them with his own. "It'll be fun I swear. Please, please, _please, _don't be lame, Jonesy."

However, she simply acted as if she had been doused in cold water and jumped back. "Please. Lame is going exploring like we're still a bunch of little kids. I've got homework to do, _Wyborne._ "

His full name. Clearly and quite obviously she was rather irked.

So Wybie gave her some space because she's-a-girl-and-hormones-growing-into-a-young-woman or whatever it was that Grandma preached before he started fake gagging and convulsing. The young boy stopped throwing paper planes at her in class, decided to not leave notes in her locker, and definitely made sure not to steal her cookie at lunch.

But Wyborn Lovat had grown restless because life without a Coraline Jones had become much smaller and quite tedious. So, it was a late autumn morning that he walked to the Pink Palace Apartments, catching Coraline picking up the mail.

"Before you say no," he said, not giving her a chance to greet him with a retort, "its scare fest at Civic Cinema. All the classics – _The Green Lagoon, Dr. Morgerstern's Creature _– everything. My treat."

She was still in her pajamas: sweatpants and an oversized shirt she had borrowed from his closet a few years ago and never gave back. While Wybie had seen her wearing it countless times before, it was now suddenly that his eyes could not stop from ogling it.

Coraline paused and bit back a smile. For a miniscule of a second, he was certain that she would accept with a punch to his arm but she quickly shook her head. "I've got to help…my dad with some errands. Chores and stuff around the house. "

"Seriously." He scowled. "Dude. What's the matter? You've been acting all weird for weeks. What, did I do something?"

She fiddled with the mail in her hands. "I haven't been acting weird."

"Please! Weird's you're new name. But whatever. I'll leave you to _work on chores _and shit with your dad. If you don't want to hang out just say so." He made it down the gravel path before he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps yet ignored her protests.

"Hey, dumbass!" she grabbed his arm but he merely yanked it away and continued walking until she blocked his path. "Look, I've been busy. It's not like I've been avoiding you" –

"Except that's exactly what you've been doing."

"I'm not!"

"Move."

"Wybie, this isn't fair!" she huffed, brown eyes bright. "You're acting like…like…"

"Like what?"

But the boy barely had time to prepare himself before he was overwhelmed by his friend - his neighbor, classmate and partner in crime - pressing her mouth onto his. It lasted for seconds, maybe minutes, who knows? All Wyborn Lovat could truly notice was the sounds of birds chirping nearby and the taste of Coraline's lemon meringue chapstick. But she pulled back hastily in shock, eyes wide in utter horror.

"I…I'm…" And with that eloquently said, the girl darted off, abandoning the mail to the crumpled leaves on the ground.

So Wybie continued lying in bed that day, the cat now sleeping on his chest as he gazed at the ceiling fan, dazed and confused. Weird, he thought. But good weird.

* * *

_A/N: Definitely turned out longer than expected..._


	6. Fantastic Party

It's the talk of the town: party. This Friday. Caroline's house.

"_Who?"_

Perhaps.

"Or Cori." Annabel simply shrugs in response to her friend. "Whatever."

It's the young girl's first time doing something like this, something quite daring. Coraline considers her parents have had it relatively good. Besides conquering the Beldam and destroying the Other World at the ripe young age of thirteen, she hasn't done anything spectacular since.

"Remember there's frozen lasagna in the freezer," Mrs. Jones repeats for the umpteenth time from the wheezing Volkswagen as it backs out of the driveway. "I told Ms. Spink and Ms. Forcible to check on you and Mr. Bobinsky should have our number!"

There's a gardening convention in the city over, which just so happens to coincidentally fall on the same exact date that Coraline may have slipped to a few people at school that she'll be hosting a spring party. More coincidentally enough, it also seems to be the same day of her sixteenth birthday: the second Friday of April.

The Cat stares at her intently, blue eyes almost glowing, as she gives a distracted wave. "Stop looking at me like that. It's not like the first time they've forgotten. No big deal."

Because, quite honestly, Coraline's okay. Absitively posolutely okay. Thus, she repeats this mantra, in her head (where she always is), as she bustles around the house, hanging Japanese lanterns, lighting incense, and riffling through cassettes to drown the noise of Mr. Bobinsky practicing upstairs with the jumping mice. At least the young girl can count on other people to have fun with. Be silly with. Coraline runs upstairs, Cat twirling around her mustard yellow socks, as she makes her way to her room, cluttered with old books and unfinished homework. It's reaching 7 o'clock.

"Aha!" Digging through her closet, she finds the bag of food she bought earlier particularly for this special occasion: chips, dip, cookies, and some beer a few friends snagged for her.

A Cheshire grin curls her mouth at the thought. The young girl's glad she can use the plural form of friends now. It had been a somewhat difficult adjustment to gain some friends in Ashland, a place in which there seemed to be only one other kid in existence: Wybie. Yet, school had introduced her to Ross, Stanley, and Arthur. Eventually, Annabel Lee didn't seem all too horrible after a while. So, she didn't need Wybie as much. Didn't need to go exploring as much. And Coraline Jones definitely didn't need her parents as much.

7:16.

"Yo! It's Cori. Just checking to see if you're on your way or not..." She wraps the cord around her finger as she lay upside down on the couch, leaving a message for Ross. "So, yeah, just let me know!"

7:24.

"Oh, that's today?" Arthur's voice crackles on the other end. "I thought it was next week?"

Coraline scowls. "_No, _it's tonight. Duh. Wait, who's that in the background? Is Stanley with you?"

"Huh? Wait, give me a second. Man, I can barely hear you." There's music in the background and his voice sounds too distant.

"Art, you're starting to sound like a robot." She presses the phone close to her ear. "Art?"

But the signal is quickly dropped.

7:46.

"Cori, I'm totally _sick_! Like really sick. It's totally bogus." Annabel coughs again.

She closes her eyes and stifles a sigh. "No, it's okay. Yeah. Just get some rest. Hope you feel better."

8:06.

Coraline swings on the front porch with Cat curled beside her. A light breeze flutters through her, tickling her purple streaked hair. She brushes the strands aside and takes a sip of beer as she listens to the crickets singing in the starry night. But, just as quickly, the young girl spits it out, face contorted in pure disgust.

"Tastes like shit, huh?"

The can flies from her hand, clanking on the mahogany wood and spilling the dark liquid at the sound of his voice. Wybie freezes in the front yard, hands stuffed in a well-worn army jacket. His green eyes appear to glow in the moonlight.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to" –

"It's fine." Coraline wipes her mouth. "Whatever."

The boy stands there silently, shuffling his boots in the grass until Cat runs to him, rubbing and purring against his legs. Coraline watches as Wybie crouches, petting Cat behind the ears with a lopsided grin. She barely speaks to him these days and isn't exactly sure what possessed her to invite the old friend. Or, better yet, have Annabel ask Lunette to tell Gary to invite him.

"The party's already over. It ended pretty early actually." Coraline picks up the beer can and chucks it into the yard. She isn't quite sure if he can still read her like a book, sensing her obvious lies, but needs a distraction regardless.

"Oh. Should I…should I go?"

She shrugs, sitting back as he picks up Cat and ambles up the creaky steps. "There's leftover chips and dip if you want. I don't really care."

This isn't particularly how the young girl envisioned her sixteenth birthday. So many other girls make it such a grand day – lavish parties, Arabic dancers, and Chinese fireworks. True, she never wanted anything _that _extreme but even a card would simply do now. A mere slap on the back.

"I guess I should get going then. But, uh…" Wybie runs a hand through his messy hair. "Here. This is for you."

Coraline's eyebrow shoots up as she watches Wybie drop Cat and pull a thin package from under his jacket. She bites her lip as she holds the gift and taps her foot as she begins unwrapping it.

"Oh…"

"I remember it's your birthday and I wasn't sure if this was, like, a party for it or whatever but…but I just guessed…"

_Flying Monstrous Wonders_. Book 91.

"I'm not sure if you still read them or not but I saw it at a garage sale so" –

"Thanks." She gives a tiny, fleeting smile in contrast to the loud, thud, thud, thumping of her touched heart. "A lot. Really, Wybie."

"No problem…Jonesy."

The young boy sits down next to her – not too close, she notices – and twiddles his thumbs. Her fingers graze the binding of the book as the two sit silently, listening to the crickets, until 10pm.

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_A/N: Thanks to my guest review! (I changed the eye colors!) Sorry these "snippets" are getting longer by the minute..._


	7. Together

"So…so, when are you, like, leaving?"

Coraline shrugs, hand absentmindedly twirling a strand of blue hair. The rims of her eyes appear crimson, faintly puffy, as if she'd been crying but Wybie doesn't dare to ask. Quite honestly, he isn't sure how.

"Pfft. I guess once everything's _finalized. _At least that's what they keep telling me." She wrinkles her buttoned nose. "Adult lingo for who the hell knows."

He nods, however, his mind is still reeling from the news. It's puzzling. Wybie has been so used to flying solo in Ashland all these years: fourteen years, eight months, one week and two days to be precise. It's his home, somewhere he had reluctantly grown up, and he had accepted his fate up until Coraline barged in. Well, more like until _he _barged into _her _world. She was unusual – loud, colorful, determined – his downright, sheer, and complete opposite.

"Yeah," Wybie says, adjusting his worn jacket. Yeesh, can't he say anything else? Perhaps anything _remotely _helpful? The boy has never been good with words, and he utterly fails when it comes to comforting any human life form. Grandma continuously says that he needs to stop over thinking and simply _do _yet how's that even feasible or plausible when his mind never –

"You know what I mean?" she sighs. "I don't know. It's just…really hard I guess."

Shit, has she been talking this entire time?

He clears his throat and fiddles with his gloves, opting to remain silent. Thankfully, for once, she doesn't question his odd behavior and the two teenagers remain like this for a few passing minutes, resting on the steps of the Pink Palace Apartments on a dark afternoon. They've spent countless times on these steps: playing with Cat, listening to Mr. Bobinsky's loud instruments, observing the clouds, and taking ignominious junior high dance photos with Ms. Forible's late 19th century studio camera. The young boy's calendar is about to utterly clear out.

Thus, Wybie isn't quite sure what possesses his hand to move on its own accord and blanket Coraline's, but it does and his mouth remains clamped shut even though he kind of likes it, however, he feels her flinch, and, dear God, he can't even _look _at her right now but she needs to understand what she means to him even if he doesn't entirely.

"Wybie" –

"Jonesy" –

Nervous chuckles escape their throats, and it takes him a beat to realize she squeezed his hand. He still can't face her.

"You first…dingbat."

A fleeting grin curls his mouth at the old nickname. Time truly has passed. "I know I'm not, like, the best friend in the world but…but it's just that, I dunno, you mean a lot to me. Like a lot. And I'm sorry about your parents. Mine got a divorce when I was too young to even remember, but I know it sucks, and I'm sorry."

He takes a breath. "It totally blows. You leaving I mean."

Coraline doesn't say anything, and he takes that as a sign to let go of her hand but she stops him. When he faces her, her expression looks curious, as if she's trying to solve a particularly complicated math problem without cheating.

"Wybie…Wybie, I" –

The door swings open, causing the two jump away so quickly that Miss Forcible shrieks. "Dear heavens! Am I interrupting something?"

And Coraline's laugh is so loud, eyes brimming with tears that Wybie can't help but take her hand again. This time he doesn't try to let go.

* * *

_A/N: I wanted to try something a little different and for some reason I can see her parents getting a divorce in the future. But this isn't canon so don't worry! As for my awesome guest review, I feel like they would swear (especially Coraline) at least a little as they get older? Their ages shift from shot to shot. Thanks for the adds and reviews! _


	8. Like Goodbye

"I really _don't _want to go."

"Coraline Beatrice Jones." Mrs. Jones narrowed her eyes, lips pursed. "Enough with the arguing. This is a difficult time for everyone. _Go."_

She scowled. "What? You don't even" –

"C'mon, kiddo. Everyone needs a friend." Mr. Jones placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder, causing her to grit her teeth.

"Fine."

Coraline made her way through the thick sea of people, bumping her way towards the exit sign like a small fish, without any hint of an apology. Sure, she had been complaining the entire time but her parents positively did not understand. They never understood anything but especially not this.

Then again perhaps funerals were a difficult thing to fully process.

The spring air hit the young girl's face as she swung open the church's large metal back door. It seemed rather conflicting to have a funeral on such a lovely blue sky day. Shouldn't the heavens be mourning such a significant loss? Yet, the trees were in bloom, bees buzzing around from flower to flower as a lawnmower droned a few blocks away. God had a cruel sense of humor.

She found him balancing on the edge of the fountain, tie loose and shirt untucked. At first Coraline simply watched him: arms stretched out, long legs crisscrossing around the rim as the wind blew, making his frizzy hair actually frizzier.

She raised a pierced eyebrow. "What're you doing?"

Wybie barely flinched. What, did he know she was coming? "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Being a space cadet."

"Huh." He wobbled. "A whole lot of nothing you know. I'm playing Around the World."

Coraline placed her hands on her hips and squinted her eyes. "Ah. I'm still going to go with space cadet."

"Knock, knock."

"...Who's there?" she took a few steps forward, hugging her narrow waist as a stronger gust of wind puffed, rumpling the dark dress. For a moment, four seconds to be exact, the young girl almost forgot she was still at a funeral. She missed moments like these. They almost seemed to be dwindling. It was strange how Wybie could make Coraline feel – make her forget anything.

"A broken pencil."

"A broken pencil who?"

"Never mind." Wybie tilted his head. "It's pointless."

She snorted. "And here I thought we were seventeen and not say, oh I dunno, _ten."_

"Huh? A lot of times people who keep emphasizing the importance of aging are likely to be the most childish. It's all, like, psychological." Wybie dipped the tip of his black loafers into the cool water.

"Oh, so we're getting all psychological then? Okay. So what do you make of when a boy is _playing _Around the World during a funeral service?"

"Easy. He just doesn't like funerals."

Coraline huffed and shook her head. He was even more odd than she remembered.

Wybie suddenly halted his steps and reached out a hand. "Come on. You gonna stand there and judge me or would you rather care to _join _me?"

"Pfft. Dingbat forever, huh?"

So Coraline grabbed his hands, allowing him to pull her up on the edge of the ramshackle fountain. However, she was suddenly close to his face, their hands still joined, and for a moment – just a mere moment – the two teenagers simply stared. He had grown taller, shoulders broader, but lanky as usual. Her freckles were lighter, buttoned-nose longer, but rough as usual. Things had changed, people had left, and while their friendship may have waned, something was still there. Something that caused them to remain like that for a few moments more.

"Jonesy." His fingers absentmindedly rubbed against her knuckles. "Can we…can we not talk? Like not say anything for a bit."

Coraline nodded, unsure that she could possibly say anything of value if she even wanted to. Abruptly, Wybie let go and spun around, directing his attention to his scuffed shoes as he once again began balancing himself on the edge. So, for the next thirteen minutes and eight seconds, the young adults played Around the World on the water fountain in silence until the church doors opened yet once again.

"Beautiful service! Just beautiful." Mr. Bobinsky sniffed and wiped his eyes as he stepped out trailing behind the Jones's. "Makes me miss my babushka."

Mr. Jones patted their neighbor's back as his wife simply raised an eyebrow at the sight of her daughter and old friend. "Coraline?"

She glanced at Wybie for a split second. He seemed to have curled into himself more, back hunched as he teeter on the edge. "I think I'm going to stay out here for a bit longer."

Because Grandma Lovat would have wanted it that way.

* * *

_A/N: I swear there are happier moments on the way. Also, thanks so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I will poke this story with a stick a little longer._


	9. Friendship Update

Wyborn Lovat does not believe in coincidences. The teenager knew this day would arrive soon, however, it almost seems out of the blue. One moment he's merely mumbling to himself as he's fixing his bike in the garage, and the next it's a blur of Coraline clambering on top of him – "Practically Friday, practically Friiiday!" She's been chattering about them (her _other _friends – he needed to get used to this idea really) relentlessly all week. Because, to be simply frank, he never believed that they would ever set foot in Ashland. They're excuses for never visiting the town were quite impressive.

"Y'okay?"

They wait at the bus station and she is holding his hand, tracing circles in his palm with her thumb. The young boy struggles to focus on breathing (Miss Spink often said that calmed her nerves before going on the stage) but evidently fails.

"Did you ever wonder what it would be like to live in a bus station?" He clears his throat. "You could live on the vending machine food for maybe a few days but it'd probably ruin your digestive system. Then, like, the only thing you'd be able to do is drink the tainted water from the fountain before you lose all sanity. "

It's a moment before Coraline cackles and gives him a swift peck on the cheek. "You're lucky you're cute."

Yet, just as quickly, she releases his hand when her friends tumble out of the charter bus – "Loper! You cannot believe how shitty the ride was here. Man, the things we do for you!" – and only speaks to him a little while after the fact. Nine minutes and twenty-three seconds later to be precise.

"And who's this kid?" Parker gestures towards Wybie

Mavis laughs and nudges the blue-haired girl. "Got a boyfriend, huh, Cori?"

"Stop talking crazy. This is _Wybie_. He's just a friend."

The designation almost causes him to cringe – Just A. Friend – but perhaps that is all he is. Because while Wybie and Coraline are older, having shared a few secret kisses, sweaty palms, and lingering hugs, nothing else has quite changed. If things _had _changed, then maybe he would have spoken up instead of staring at his scuffed boots. If things had changed, he would have said something about Parker's arm wrapped around Jonesy. And, if things had truly, profoundly, and undeniably changed, then he would be wearing a different title.

He runs his fingers through his hair and stares past Parker's shoulder. "Uh, hey. What's up?"

And, thankfully, this is enough for him to get by during the rest of the day as they soon forget about him, shrouded in their own world of nostalgia and witticisms. He drives the childhood friends back to the Pink Palace Apartments, Grandma's decrepit Oldsmobile wheezing all the way, and endures another hour with them before promptly heading home to hide for the following weekend.

Cat simply shake its head in displeasure as Wybie fiddles with his bike and several odd tools. He's successfully avoided Coraline and her ghosts of friendships past for two and a half days.

"What?" Wybie twirls a wrench between his fingers. "If you're going to hang out with me, the least you can do is, like, actually help."

He's able to finish his homework, give Grandma her medicine, and curl on the lumpy sofa to watch a documentary on extinct insects before the doorbell rings. Twelve steps and two cleared throats later, he finds himself on the porch, hands stuffed into his pockets, with a talkative Coraline.

"Anyway you had to be there – Mr. Bobinsky was so funny. I mean, I wish you were there. I haven't seen you at all and Mavis's been asking about you. Not like in a weird way or something but whatever." She finally pauses and her brown eyes look at him expectantly. "You should come with us tonight. There're a couple of some really cool bands that'll be playing."

Wybie shakes his head. A peculiar feeling is blossoming in his chest and he isn't quite sure what to do. "Nah, I don't – I mean, I'm pretty tired."

"_Wyborn._"

"What? I am. I have a life, too, you know. I do a lot of stuff."

"Never said you didn't."

"Well…" he needs to do something with his hands so he rubs the back of his neck. "Great."

"Perfect."

"Fantastic?"

"Splendid."

And Wybie can't help but chuckle as he crosses his arms and leans against the door frame just as Coraline leans towards him. Her fingers fiddle with the hem of his worn shirt and she is rather close enough that he can count her eyelashes if he really wanted to (he wants to).

However, the young girl jumps back when her friends shout her name - "Where are you! - alarmingly near.

"Later?" Coraline runs down the steps and glances back at him once more.

He tilts his head. "…Later."

* * *

_**A/N**: Whew, yeah, I suck at updating. But, we're almost done!  
_


	10. Exploration

**Warning: Mild Content**

* * *

"Wybie," she repeats.

"C-coraline."

And of all the things to blush about, the young woman's cheeks softly redden, a light combination of amaranth and cerise, at that. It's a known fact that he rarely calls her by her actual birth name. Simply, an unspoken rule amongst the pair and the rest of the quaint town.

"It's okay."

"…I know."

Coraline slides her hand against the side of his face. "Then open your eyes."

They are in her bedroom: the shades drawn, creating dark shadows across the small room, which would normally echo the teenager's personality in every shape and form. However, any remnants of Coraline Jones are packed away in sinopia cardboard boxes, strewn about the wooden floor. The walls are bare, void of her rock band posters, her windowsill empty, void of her button collection, and shelves unoccupied, void of books, magazines, and newspapers. But the bed remains in the middle of the room, snuggled against the wall, with the old origami birds still hanging from the posts.

And that is where they sit, cross-legged, in their undergarments.

"This okay?" she murmurs as her long fingers trace shapes onto his chest and she can see it rising and falling, rapidly.

His green eyes fly open but he merely nods.

Coraline's hands wander as she traces lower, down to his abdomen, and then up to his arms. Her skin is pale, crisscrossed with freckles, and is a stark contrast to his mahogany tone. She can see the muscle in his forearms and she pauses there for a moment, before running both hands down and tangling them with his. Her heart is beating faster but she is surprisingly composed, collected, and calm.

"I want you," she moves his hands and places them against her chest, "to touch me."

And he's tremendously nervous, Coraline knows, the way his eyes are quite large and his unusual silence, but she wants this, perhaps needs this, to happen before her parents drive her tomorrow morning to Michigan State University. The periwinkle-haired girl had truly never thought of it before and when they went to the twins', Maureen and Daureen, party earlier that night, the crowds had laughed at their Friends With No Benefits relationship.

_"__You two…" Maureen slurred, "…you two have really never banged?"_

_Wybie jerked his head back suddenly but Coraline simply shrugged. "What's it to you, Mo?"_

_The girl laughed but it was a little while later that she grasped Wybie's hand and he's grateful – he's still never truly comfortable in such scenes – as he gave her a quick squeeze but along the way she led him to the Pink Palace Apartments. It was indisputable that he already knew once they opened the front door. _

But the young woman isn't exactly certain why she does it: guides his quivering hands to unclasp her bra, slips off his boxers, and sprinkles kisses everywhere. All the eighteen year old is quite sure of is the odd yet warm feeling blossoming throughout her entire body – from the tips of her wiggling toes to the very top of her head. Because it's _Wyborn, _her childhood friend and neighbor, who's making her feel this way. Wyborn, who's hesitantly nipping her neck and grazing his lips across her collarbone. And once she wraps her legs around his waist, inviting him in, she utterly wishes that she hadn't already done this before.

"_Wybie_…"

It's all rather slow, a bit awkward, but soft and by the time they are done, the pair are resting on their backs, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars glued on her ceiling. The window is cracked opened, allowing the rhythms of lightening bugs and night trucks to flutter in and accompany their heavy breathing. Blinking a few times, Coraline Jones ponders if she'll regret –

"Remember…remember when we put on that play for Miss Spink and Miss Forcible after their dog died?" Wybie shifts under the covers. "I thought it was so stupid. Tried to talk you out of it, too, but you were so determined" –

"You mean bossy?"

His mouth curls up fleetingly. "Made some BS excuse that people who ignore emotional pain wind up wasting their time or something. We got into a fight but, like, two days later you swung by with tickets to some art festival."

Coraline closes her eyes briefly. How did it get so far away? She turns, facing him, but he remains fixed. "I don't want anything to change either."

It takes him a few breaths, approximately seven and a half, until he turns and faces her so they are nose to nose. There are many words rambling away in the two young adults' heads – confessions, secrets, and declarations – yet they remain oddly quiet.

"Coraline," he says softly and gulps. "Coraline Jones."

She opens her mouth, yet closes it, resembling a fish.

There is much left to explore, wherever this is heading, but the weary travelers don't say a word and remain grateful for the dark.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _And on that note...c'est fini! Thanks so much for all who's reviewed, followed, and favorited! A special thanks to "Kiss of the Breeze" and her awesome comments and suggestions :) Even though this fandom is pretty quiet, you guys have been a pleasure to write for. It's been fun continuing Coraline's world and I totally wish it was real. You know, without the Bedlam..._


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